


of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you

by AsunaChinaDoll



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands, Mutual Pining, Post-Battle of Scarif, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsunaChinaDoll/pseuds/AsunaChinaDoll
Summary: “Ma’am, please—”“IsaidIdon’t care,” Jyn sneers. “Take me to him.”She gets what she wants.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 27
Kudos: 135





	of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for Rebelcaptain week over on Tumblr but I am tired and my brain has stopped working LOL enjoy :))))
> 
> Title taken from [Cecilia and The Satellite by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness](https://youtu.be/G_zY_jSVXSU)

She wakes up with his name on her tongue.

“Cassian,” she rasps, her voice rough with disuse. She barely takes the time to assess her condition—body stiff and aching something fierce, in a medbay of sorts—before she’s grabbing the attention of the nearest med-droid. 

“Ma’am, please—”

“I _said_ I _don’t care_ ,” Jyn sneers. “Take me to him.”

She gets what she wants.

Seeing Cassian—whole, _alive_ , stretched across the cot—causes a dizzying kind of relief to course through her. With what’s left of her waning energy, she hobbles to his bedside and pulls up a chair.

It’s jarring how peaceful he seems in sleep. There are no harsh lines painting his face, no ghosts clinging to his back. He looks… young; his age.

It occurs to Jyn suddenly that she doesn’t know how old he is. Or where he’s from, or how he takes his caf, or how he got that scar above his eyebrow. Really, she doesn’t know a thing about him. 

She thinks she wants to know.

For now, she reaches out and takes his hand. Kindly threads her fingers with his, just like on Scarif, calluses against scars. She sits, and breathes, and revels in the solid warmth of their joined hands.

* * *

He wakes up with her name on his tongue.

“Jyn,” he mumbles, his throat hoarse like he swallowed glass shards. Cassian blinks, lets the world filter into place.

Then, the weight in his hand registers, and he almost does a double take. The sight of Jyn Erso—whole, _alive_ , curled up in a chair and asleep while holding his hand—is not what he expected to be greeted with. But it’s not unwelcome.

The med-droid wheels up to his side, offers him a hydration pack that he takes gratefully, and goes on to inform him of the extensive list of injuries he sustained. He doesn’t catch most of it, instead listening to deep, even breaths, running the pad of his thumb over worn knuckles.

“Shall I wake Miss Erso to allow you time to recover?”

At that, Cassian snaps to attention.

“What? No,” bursts from his lips. He realizes himself instantly, and clears his throat. Softer, he amends, “She can stay.”

“Very well.” The med-droid leaves.

Cassian sighs, then winces at the twinge in his ribs. His gaze lands back on Jyn.

It occurs to him that everything he knew about Jyn, he read in a file. And within all the days he spent with her afterwards, he learned that he knows nothing about her. Not the things a datapad would hold. Not the things that matter. 

He thinks he wants to know.

With all the care he can muster, he grabs the spare blanket at the foot of his bed, and clumsily undoes its folds with one hand. He drapes the blanket over her shoulders, fiddles with it until it’s covered her small frame.

His eyes flick to her pale face, follows the soft line of her cheek. Without thought, he leans forward and brushes back a stray hair from her temple. It’s only after he withdraws that he realizes what he did. He freezes, the moment replaying in his mind.

Before he can even begin to unpack whatever that means, Jyn shifts, her slender fingers twitching in his own, and then relaxes. Cassian exhales slowly, leaning back against his pillows. He decides to unpack later.

For now, he sits, and breathes, and revels in the solid warmth of their joined hands.

* * *

She can’t sleep. Or maybe she doesn’t want to, afraid of what will meet her when she closes her eyes. Either way she’s fooling herself, Jyn wanders the halls of the Yavin IV base. Her hand absentmindedly trails a line along the old stone, dirt collecting on her fingers. 

She is drawn out of her restless, far off gaze by the sound of a door gliding open. She’s about to step aside and keep her head down, when she catches a familiar, lean figure out of the corner of her eye.

They both pause as she meets Cassian’s gaze, or maybe he meets Jyn’s. She is quick to scan him—for nothing in particular—but he can’t hide the dark circles beneath hooded eyes, a weary kind of tension in all the lines of his body. She thinks he sees the same in her.

After a beat, something shifts behind his eyes. An understanding.

Jyn nods subtly before continuing down the hall. Cassian falls in step beside her.

The night doesn’t seem so oppressive anymore. 

* * *

Two nights later, Jyn shows up unceremoniously at Cassian’s door. He considers her for only a moment. He steps aside.

She slips into his bed, lays on her side facing the wall, and he’s unsure how to follow her; if she needs her space, where to put his hands, what this _thing_ is between, this floating, palpable thing—

“Are you coming to bed,” she says lowly, startling him, “or are you going to keep standing there and watching me?”

He huffs something like a laugh. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, okay.”

He draws the thin blanket up and slips in beside her, the cot bowing beneath them, causing her to shift her weight and press her side to his arm. Even through the material of her shirt, she radiates warmth, and he has to force himself not to soak in it. 

Slowly, carefully, he lays down, eyes trained on the back of her head, and her brown hair fanned across his pillow. He swallows.

“Good night,” Jyn whispers. 

“Good night,” Cassian whispers back.

In the morning, they wake up with rumpled clothes and tangled limbs, but neither of them say a thing. 

She comes back every night after that, and with each passing day, he’s a little more sure, a little more hopeful that she’ll stay. With the Rebellion, or with him, he isn’t quite sure (he didn’t even realize he was afraid she would leave).

And in the morning, they wake up with rumpled clothes and tangled limbs and just close enough for comfort, but neither of them say a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I greatly appreciate it <333
> 
> If you like Rebelcaptain/SW, feel free to check out my [Tumblr](https://asunachinadoll.tumblr.com/)


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